Happy New Year!

I hope you all have the best 2018, filled with reasons to smile and happy memories. I'm glad to share this new year with you all.

Thank you so much for all the overwhelmingly positive feedback on the prologue. Here's chapter one, where we get to hang out with Kurt a bit :). I hope you'll like it as well.

As usual, this is unbeta'd, and I own nothing.

Enjoy!

Despite how much his coworkers complained, Kurt Hummel actually loved the morning shift. Of course, the blaring of his alarm at five in the morning wasn't exactly pleasant. But he was so busy with the rush of early-risers in seek of their caffeine fix, that he barely noticed the hours, slipping through his fingers.

He had been lucky enough to find a job near campus, so he didn't have to cross the city to get from the coffee house to class. It was hard enough living in Bushwick and dealing with the commute every day. Kurt had found that the forty minutes it took him to get from his apartment to school or work were actually useful for catching up on his reading for class. He had to learn to be efficient with every minute of his day. And now he was on the lookout for a second job, he would have to squeeze every second as much as he could.

It hadn't been an easy summer for Kurt. Most of his classmates had been happy to have an excuse to go home and relax until the new semester started, but Kurt had spent most of his time worrying about his father's health. Burt Hummel was still as strong as he had always been, but his heart liked to play tricks on him and give him a scare every once in a while. He was out of the hospital and back home and under the care of Kurt's stepmother, Carole, but he'd needed surgery. Kurt had spent some terrifying nights lying in his childhood bedroom, waiting for the worst to happen. He had only breathed again when Burt was released from the hospital.

Before he returned to New York, Kurt had heard a whispered conversation. His parents were worried about the hospital bills that had been piling up those past few weeks. Until now, Kurt had lived a normal but pretty comfortable life. His father had never said no whenever he needed or truly wanted something. When Kurt had moved from Ohio to New York for school, Burt had told him that he would pay for rent and school. He wanted Kurt to only focus on getting good grades and living the life he had always wanted. Kurt had gotten the job at Starbucks anyway, because he wanted to be as independent as possible. Still, he appreciated his father's help, since life in New York was a lot more expensive that it had been in Lima. But now… how could he allow his father to keep paying for everything when he knew they were struggling? He didn't want to give him any more reasons to stress. He didn't want to be the reason his father would have to go back to the hospital.

So this semester, Kurt had two goals: passing all his classes with the highest possible grade, and finding a new job. He hoped the job could preferably be in the fashion world, where he belonged.

Kurt put on his apron. He was on the cash register this morning, instead of making the drinks. Knowing Sammi, his partner during his shift today, he would have to switch halfway through. She hated mixing the drinks, was too slow, preferred smiling at the customers as she took their orders, and letting the more complicated aspects of the interaction to Kurt. Kurt didn't mind, especially now: making coffee was a lot more demanding than most people thought. There was so much precision required in the drinks they made here. It was just what he needed to keep his head busy and his worry at bay.

He had a moment to glance at the city outside the coffee shop as Sammi unlocked the doors to allow the first customers of the day in. New York was just waking up, but already vibrant and so alive. Its concrete veins were always pumping, and Kurt had never felt like he belonged anywhere until he got here. Here, he was allowed to be whoever he wanted to be. He loved the freedom this city provided him with, the possibilities waiting for him in every corner. He never knew what the day would bring when he got out of bed in the morning.

He snapped out of it as the first weary business man made his way to the counter. Kurt plastered a big smile on his face to greet him and take his order. The smell of coffee brewing filled the store, as well as the delicious scent of the fresh baked goods. Kurt was suddenly optimistic. Yes, it had been a difficult summer, but it was the start of a new year.

There could be so many surprises coming his way.

Kurt opened the heavy, sliding door to his apartment, and was immediately greeted by Rachel's big smile.

"Hey! There you are! I was about to call you and see when you'd be home," she said from where she was sitting on the couch with her laptop.

Kurt grunted. "I spilled milk on my pants just before my shift was over, so I had to change, and I lost my train." He dropped his satchel on a chair and headed into his bedroom, hidden behind a curtain that worked as partition. "I need a shower. I feel disgusting."

"Okay," Rachel replied, getting up from the couch and stretching her arms over her head. "Would you like to have Chinese for dinner?"

Kurt grunted once again as he grabbed some clean clothes. "I have to cut back on take out. But you can get some for yourself and I'll make something with whatever's on the fridge."

Rachel peeked into the refrigerator and scrunched her nose. "So lettuce, one egg and something that's been here since before we left for Ohio, and I no longer can recognize?"

Kurt paused on his way to the bathroom and sighed in resignation. "Fine, one last Chinese food splurge. I'll go to the grocery store tomorrow and pick some things up. And please, just get rid of that thing. I don't even want to find out what it was."

Rachel removed a container from the fridge and studied it as she walked towards the trash bin. "It looks like it was leftover Thai, long ago."

Kurt made a disgusted face and then closed the bathroom door behind him.

There were many downsides to living in New York, one of them being the limited hot water for showers. Kurt had enjoyed plenty of long, almost decadent showers while he was in Ohio, and he missed those almost as much as he missed his family. But it was a small price to pay for living in a city he loved, so tried to stay positive.

Living in Bushwick meant it wasn't a good idea to go out for a walk after dark, but it also provided him and Rachel with the chance to live in a huge loft for a very affordable price. Sure, they almost had no privacy (the curtains were laughable when trying to contain, uhm… noises. Kurt still cringed when thinking back to last semester when Rachel had been in a relationship with a guy from school who just couldn't shut up in bed), but it was better than nothing. And right now, with his current financial situation, Kurt couldn't even dream about living in Manhattan.

Once he was out of the shower, and while they waited for their dinner, Kurt sat on the couch with his computer. He went over his resumé, wondering how he could make it more appealing to fashion companies, magazines and… well, okay, basically anyone. If he had to pick up another job as a waiter in a restaurant or something along those lines, he would take it. But it didn't hurt looking at positions that could provide him with more meaningful experiences, related to the field he was interested in.

The problem was, most of the positions he could qualify for were unpaid internships. Had his circumstances been any different, he would have jumped at the chance. But unfortunately, as much as he would have loved to work at Vogue, he had other priorities.

Rachel must have noticed how worried he was. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. "Hey. I'm sure you'll find a job that doesn't suck. Just hang in there. I know you want to help your dad, but stressing won't help either of you. I'm sure he doesn't want you to get sick over it."

Kurt sighed. "Yeah, you're right. I mean… I hate worrying about money. There are plenty of more important things to worry about."

"Just be patient," she said, as the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of their food. She dropped a quick kiss on the top of his head as she headed for the door. "I have a feeling this will be your year."

Kurt put his laptop aside and got up to set the table. He desperately hoped this would be one of those times when Rachel would obnoxiously say I told you so.

Kurt had always been the kind of person who was convinced that he could do anything as long as he truly wanted it. Now, he was learning that jobs didn't exactly happen because you wanted them to.

Getting the position at Starbucks had been easy enough, but he wouldn't have minded if he had to go for a different job instead. In the end, he chose it above other offers because it paid better and his shifts were more flexible. Now, even though his standards weren't all that high, there was nothing.

After shooting an email to two of his professors, who always raved about his designs in class, they sent him back a list of internships that he would be perfect for. Kurt almost drooled while looking at the names on the list – Marc Jacobs? He would have actually committed murder to get to work there. Vogue was heaven on earth for people like him. Dior? It was a dream. They were also all unpaid internships.

"Well, but what if you go for one of those and if you work hard enough, maybe they'll give you something more stable in a few months?" Rachel suggested as she watched him pull at his hair in frustration.

"But I would have to cut back on my shifts at Starbucks for this. I would actually be losing money, Rachel," he whined. "I can't do it."

Rachel simply patted him on the back in comfort. His dreams of the fashion world would have to wait.

Instead, he decided to focus on other areas. He sent his resumé to a few boutiques, walked across the entirety of Manhattan looking for Help Wanted signs on restaurants and coffee houses, and gave Rachel a few copies of his resumé as well, with the tiny little hope that she might find something for him at the theatre where she was currently part of the ensemble of an off (off-off-off) Broadway production.

"Maybe they'll have something in the costume department!" She said in excitement. "Wouldn't that be awesome?"

Kurt agreed, but tried not to get his hopes up.

He got a few interviews. One of the boutiques he had applied to had an open position for a sales assistant, but his class schedule conflicted with the shifts. A restaurant called, but they offered a lot less than what he earned at Starbucks, and he would have to work until two in the morning, which didn't sound appealing since he had a few early morning classes this semester.

Nothing seemed to work. Whenever he got a call for an interview, Kurt thought this might be the one, but in the end, there was always something negative.

"Maybe I should lower my standards a bit more?" Kurt muttered, doubtful, as he stood in front of a Chinese restaurant with a Help Wanted sign. It looked like the kind of place the Department of Sanitation would have a field day. Kurt was almost sure he saw a rat sneaking under the counter.

"Kurt, if you lower your standards even more, you'll end up working at a strip club," Rachel said, firmly steering him away from the restaurant. "You'll find something."

But Kurt was worried, and whatever was coming his way was taking its sweet time arriving.

Once the semester started, looking for a job seemed even harder. When Kurt learned of the workload for his classes, he wondered if he would have to just give up sleep altogether.

He tried to stay positive. It was just hard when bills were already piling up. He refused to call home and ask Carole for money. He knew she and his dad were already struggling with their own bills.

The first Thursday of the semester, Kurt arrived at his English class feeling jaded and worried. He sat on the first available seat he found and looked around to see if anyone he knew was here. He then simply wasted time on his phone as he waited for the professor to arrive.

Professor Anderson was one of his favorites. This was the second elective class he took with him, and he enjoyed the way Professor Anderson talked about literature like there was nothing more beautiful in the world to him than the written word. It had been a particularly special delight to hear him recite Shakespeare in old English in his smooth, clear voice. It also helped that Professor Anderson was probably the youngest in the English Department and he was very attractive too.

When Professor Anderson stepped into the classroom, however, Kurt was shocked. The youthful, charming man who had stood at the front of the class the past term was very far from the man who placed his satchel on the desk, looking like even that was a great effort. He was hunched, there were dark marks under his eyes, and Kurt honestly wondered if the shirt he was wearing was even clean. It looked wrinkled, too unkempt for someone who always looked his best.

"Good morning everyone," Professor Anderson said, and he sounded just as tired as he looked. "I see a few familiar faces, but for those who don't know me, I'm Professor Blaine Anderson, and this is Modern Lit. Please pass the syllabus around. We'll be discussing its contents and the work we'll be doing this semester."

Kurt looked down at the syllabus, handed to him by the guy in the row before him, who looked like he had just smoked a jungle worth of pot. The contents of the syllabus were interesting enough, but Kurt was actually a lot more interested in Professor Anderson.

Kurt wasn't proud to admit that he had looked for a ring on his finger when he'd had Professor Anderson the previous term. He knew the man wasn't married, but by the looks of it, Kurt was still pretty sure it had to have been a pretty bad break up.

It seemed it hadn't been only Kurt who had had a bad summer.

"… and my office hours are noted at the end of the document," Professor Anderson was saying when Kurt finally paid attention. "I'm also teaching a creative writing workshop this semester, and it's open to anyone who's interested in joining. If you have any questions about that, you can just email me and I'll send back all the info. Alright. Any questions so far?"

Pot Boy raised his hand. "I thought this was Philosophy 101?"

The class laughed collectively. Kurt rolled his eyes. Professor Anderson didn't even show any emotion.

"I'm afraid you're in the wrong class. Philosophy 101 is down the hallway," Professor Anderson replied patiently. Pot Boy hurried to gather his things and leave. "Any other questions?"

A giggling girl a few rows away from Kurt raised her hand. He rolled his eyes again ahead of time. She had been in his English class last semester and had spent most of it trying to flirt with Professor Anderson. "Did you have a nice summer, Professor?"

Kurt actually looked over his shoulder to glare at her. Was she blind? It was obvious the guy had had a shitty summer.

Professor Anderson cleared his throat. He was usually a very collected, very dapper kind of guy. He always had a smile on his face, encouraged questions saying there weren't any stupid ones, and was generally a lot more patient and nicer than Kurt ever would be.

Today, though, after a few very awkward seconds of absolute silence, he completely ignored the girl's question. He said: "The first thing on the syllabus is American modern literature. F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway are two of the most important writers in this era. Can someone tell me any other American modern writers?"

He launched into his lesson like he was clinging to it for dear life.

Kurt felt bad for the guy. It couldn't be easy to stand in front of so many people when your heart was broken and everyone could just see how vulnerable you were.

Despite the obvious sadness written all over his face, Professor Anderson delivered his class with the same professionalism as usual, though maybe with just a little bit disconnection. It was like his mind was elsewhere, far away from this crowded classroom in the middle of New York City. Wherever it was, it wasn't the happiest place.

Once the class was dismissed, Kurt tried to catch the professor's eyes. He knew there was nothing that could help a heartbreak, except for time and maybe a bowl of ice cream or two, but he felt Professor Anderson deserved at least an encouraging smile for a job well done. It probably hadn't been easy to get out of bed in the morning to face all these people. However, Professor Anderson quickly gathered his things and left the classroom, forgoing his usual habit of staying behind to chat with students who may have had some additional questions. Kurt saw him fish his phone out of his pocket as he walked out of the room, already dialing a number and pressing the phone to his ear.

Kurt really hoped Professor Anderson wasn't one of those men who left clingy, whiny messages on people's voicemails asking them to take him back.

Kurt grabbed his bag and left the classroom. Rachel was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall with two cups of coffee, her gaze lost somewhere down the hallway.

"You certainly are a sight for sore eyes," Kurt said with a sigh, making grabby hands for the coffee.

"You've had a few hard days. You deserve all the caffeine you can get," Rachel said, watching as Kurt downed a gulp of scalding coffee like a thirsty man in the desert. "Plus, I'm afraid I need to deliver some bad news, and the coffee seemed a nice way to appease the beast."

Kurt's coffee suddenly tasted like ashes in his mouth. "What is it?"

"The restaurant where you had that interview yesterday called. They hired someone else," Rachel replied, knowing it was best to just rip the Band-Aid. "And I talked to the people at the theatre. They're not looking to hire anyone right now."

Kurt took another sip of coffee, mostly so Rachel wouldn't see just how upset he was. He shrugged. "Well, I'm sure I'll find something else…" He commented, as lightly as he could, though feeling the weight on his shoulders increase by the second.

Rachel smiled at him brightly. "Of course. I'm sure we'll have some good news before the week is over." She laced her arm through his and they began to walk down the hallway. "Oh, hey, was that Professor Anderson? He looked like shit. He looked so handsome last semester…"

Kurt knew it wasn't nice of him to use other people's misery as a distraction. Still, gossiping about Professor Anderson's probable break-up was a lot less troubling than thinking of the stack of bills piling up on the kitchen table.

And there, in the back of his mind, he could see his father's tire shop, the business Burt Hummel had built with effort over the years and that was now in the hands of one of his oldest employees, because Burt wasn't allowed back at work yet. Maybe he would never be able to work on cars again.

And there, in the back of his mind, there was a rising fear: having to leave New York to work at the tire shop, to provide for his family; having to live in Ohio again, where he had never been able to find happiness; having to leave every dream he had ever had behind.

No, it wasn't nice to gossip, but it was better than driving himself crazy with the worry that he would have to give up everything he had worked so hard for.

Please review, and let me know if you liked it!

I hope to get a lot of writing done in the next few days, so, fingers crossed, I'll update again soon.

Have a wonderful day!

Love,

L.-